Welcome! As the name implies, this is where I share choice words with the one or two of you who stumble across this site. Often, I write about what's going on in my life, both good and bad. I try to share these experiences with enough perspective to keep this from turning into a sad, future-state version of LiveJournal. Frequent topics include work and personal pursuits, recent adventures, ideas, and productivity advice. My posting schedule is sporadic, so accept my apology in advance for long delays between postings. If you prefer pictures instead of words, I'm also on Instagram. Thanks for reading!

I said I wanted to be a writer. They told me I should be ready to bleed.

I’m battling a major bout of writer’s block.

To get something to paper, I thought it would be interesting to capture a stream of consciousness. And to be honest, the resulting word vomit turned out a little weird, a bit dark and somewhat incoherent. But as an act of vulnerability, I decided to let it fly.

Maybe it will convince you to share your own thoughts in a more vulnerable way.

I’m told it’s because I have FOMO: the fear of missing out. It’s true. But it’s not just fear. It’s also confusion. I’m confused at how we make decisions without knowing the full implications of our choices.

Because not all choices have a clear right and wrong. Many are simply gray.

The year was 2004. I was in a special kind of hell we’ll refer to as high school. And the flames were extra hot at this particular moment.

My then girlfriend was rushing around her house frantically trying to find her name tag for work. I needed to drop her off at work in 10 minutes, which was fine, except we were roughly 25 minutes away. And being late would also have been fine, except she was on her third “last” warning.

Suddenly, just as despair was setting in, she found the god forsaken name tag. We were out the door, hood sliding our way into my Dad’s 1998 Chevrolet Silverado Z-71. Then, two minutes into the race, she shrieks, “I forgot my f**king phone!”